


The Antecedent

by SevenHumanTraits



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Aka never, Aka no magic blue ghost dicks, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Human Souls, M/M, No smut until I discover how skellies can have dingdongs, Reader Is Not Frisk, Reader is the human that fell before Frisk, Slow Burn, Sorry Not Sorry, The Baby Bones, how does one tag without spoiling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-05 14:55:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5379296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SevenHumanTraits/pseuds/SevenHumanTraits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seven. There were seven humans that fell before the eighth could finally open the barrier. Seven children who died, most  trying to find their way home. But one of the seven never did try. One of them remained, and was raised in a land of monsters and magic in hopes of finding their own way of breaking the barrier. </p><p>This story follows the seventh fallen child, their upbringing, adventures, and challenges. All in the hope that someday, with enough determination, they could show the ones they love the true night sky...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Warm Welcome

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! Thanks so much for choosing to read this fic (you're gonna have a good time I promise). Suggestions and corrections are always welcome! This was heavily inspired by all the smol skelly fics out there, so bless you skelly pervs/nerds/freaks. I salute you. We shall all love skelly together. In skelly helly.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Green and gold has a particular smell. One you somehow find familiar.

The air smelled green and gold.

The musty, moist taste of vegetation along with the enticing fragrance of flowers shocked your palette as soon as you gasped for breath. The combination soothed your dry throat, and you began to inhale desperately for relief. Your body ached and creaked like old floor boards with each little movement, even flinching from the deep intakes of breath. Your eyes pried open to look at the light leaking through the ceiling, bouncing lazily around the still-dark cave. Your breaths gradually slowed as your muscles became accustomed to the pain. After a few moments of observing your surroundings, you finally decided to cry out for help, but your voice came out cracked and unfamiliar.

"Howdy!"

You turned sharply, your aching body immediately screaming in regret. Your watering eyes searched the cave, the dark wrapping and coiling itself around the entire room. Finally, they met with a pair of cold, empty black beads.

"My name's Flowey! Flowey the flower!" The beads belonged to, as the creature stated, a flower.

It was green and gold.

"H-Hello," you croaked, wincing as your vocal chords rubbed against one another like sand paper. Trembling from the effort, you lifted yourself up to face the flower, whose features became more focused as unconsciousness slowly left your crusty eyes. But in the dimly lit room, Flowey’s happy bobbing motions made it incredibly difficult to see it clearly.

"You must be new here, friend!" it cooed, the smile plastered on their face growing wider and predatory. "Let me show you how life works here in the Underground!"

You blinked slowly, allowing this new information to register. The Underground? How did you get here...? Your head throbbed just trying to search for the answer, once familiar memories somehow made unclear by a bright white light. Before you could answer, Flowey's facial expression darkened further, its rhythmic dance turning into an irritated flail.

"Hey, don’t you know it’s rude to ignore a friend?" it growled, that once cheerful tone growing distorted and demented. Your cheeks began to lose feeling, all your blood rushing to your now racing heart as Flowey’s face began to contort painfully. Suddenly your chest began to burn with a strangely comforting heat, like a mug full of hot tea, the kissing touch of a fire's warmth, a loving embrace. The soothing heat accumulated until a deep blue light flooded the room, rippling against the granite walls as though they were underwater. You look down at the brightening source, a heart floating gently before your chest. You released a shaky breath, somehow feeling hollow.

"Down here we like to share LOVE with some white, friendliness pellets," Flowey giggled enthusiastically, said pellets appearing around you. Instinctively, you gathered the glowing blue heart in your arms and shakily began to stand. "Here! Why don't you have some, FRIEND?"

The pellets began to fly towards you with frightening speed, striking your tiny frame harmlessly. One, however, managed to hit the heart that you had desperately tried to protect. The contact immediately summoned a guttural cry to escape your lips, hot tears warming your cheeks. Flowey let out a demented cackle at the sight of your suffering, his flailing now becoming violent thrashing.  

"Foolish human... Down here it’s K I L L O R B E K I L L E D," Flowey sneered, it's lifeless beads for eyes growing evil and bloodthirsty as you crumpled to the ground. The pain that seared through you was deafening, but your sight became blinded by the white hot fury which filled the empty void the blue heart left.

"Thanks for letting me know, _friend_ ," you smiled forcefully, your voice surprising you once again with its quiet ferocity. In your fragile hands, the shining blue light began to burn brighter, filling the room with its presence. Flowey appeared to be startled by this change, which filled you with even more resolve. The distraction lasted only mere seconds before Flowey summoned even more pellets, surrounding you on all sides.

_You can't run away, idiot._

You closed your eyes, the heat in your chest and hands growing hotter and hotter. The white light blocking your memories cleared, ever so briefly, as you growled through gritted teeth.

"No one is going to push me around any more," you spat, the blue light darting straight towards Flowey, trapping him amongst its humming aura. The pellets around you shook violently, trying to finish its job but to no avail without its master's command. The growing satisfaction in your chest dimmed as you frowned in confusion and inch your way to the creature now frozen in place, it's features stuck in an uncomfortable scowl. You kneel down before the paralyzed flower, your eyebrows tightening as your confusion thickened. Did _you_  do this?

_You think you're so strong don't you?_

Your eyes widened, another scream choking you as the once comfortable warmth grew into a burning heat, searing your fingers. Your limbs became heavy with exhaustion as the blue light began to flicker, causing Flowey to jerkily begin to move.

"H-How... Are you... U-U-Using magic?" it hissed, gradually gaining more control of its movements. Magic? Was that what this was? Your watering eyes glance at the hands that were once unbothered by the heat, now blistered and raw from something much hotter than a normal flame. The smell of burning flesh eliciting yet another scream to reach you as the pain rolled through you in another wave.

Before you had realized that Flowey was fully free, pellets had already began to throw themselves towards you once more. Your eyes darted desperately at the sudden multitude of ammo and shuddered at the heavy hopelessness that settled in your gut. This time, all you could do was try to make yourself smaller, curling protectively over your faint heart and bracing for the inevitable contact. In just a few seconds, the pain would come again...

In just... A few more seconds?

your eyes fly open at the sudden sound of Flowey's screams, bright orange flames engulfing the dim blue glow of the room, which had all but flickered and returned safely to your chest. The weight of it made you feel full, the heat becoming comfortable again upon its return. The throbbing of your burnt skin dulled as confusion replaced your fear and pain.

"It is alright my child, you are safe now," a soft voice purred, the sharp contrast from Flowey's roars shocking you out of your daze. Warm, white fur met your side and soothed your now dwindling adrenaline. Confusion ached further as you realized your savior was a towering figure, with animalistic features such as its gleaming, pointed fangs. You looked up, your eyes meeting a pair of concerned, shining marbles of dark crimson. This red was unlike the blood now gathering in your tattered palms. This red was like fall leaves. Red like the sweet, treasured apples you forward to every year back home.

...Home? You strained to think of where that sudden memory came from, but it was met with the same white light, refusing to grant you entry to such thoughts. Noticing the moisture on your cheeks, the white, goat-like creature scooped you up delicately, wiping away your tears with surprising soft claws.

"You are safe now my child," it whispered, beginning to rock you softly. “I will protect you no matter what it takes, even at the cost of my life.”

Your bottom lip trembles at those words, the horror of the events that just occurred finally reaching you. Burrowing your face into your guardian, you let out a muted cry, giving into a violent wave of sobs.

The room no longer smelled of green and gold. It smelled of cinnamon and butterscotch.


	2. Walk like You, Talk like You

"Mother, Mother!" you cried excitedly, rushing into the living room where Mother was reading beside the fire, as usual. She glanced towards your direction over the glasses that were comically small compared to her face, and warm grin beginning to brighten her eyes.

"Yes my child? What has made you so excited?" she cooed as you leaped into her arms, finding a comfortable position in her soft white fur. Her chuckles gently rocked you up and down as you struggled to turn and show her your masterpiece.

"Look! It's you and me," you announced proudly, pointing and naming each crayon-scrawled figure respectively for emphasis. Your grin widened as Mother took the drawing and planted a warm kiss on your forehead.

"Oh it's absolutely beautiful, my child," Mother grinned, nuzzling you slightly as she carefully surveyed the drawing. After a few comments of admiration, she began to focus on the smaller figure in the drawing. "Is this... You, my child?"

You nodded furiously, and pointed at the figure’s red hands as evidence, much like your own. After six months, those red, raw scars on your hands were the only reminder that the fight against Flowey ever occurred. Toriel, as you would come to know, took you in and nursed you back to health to the best of her ability. She fed you, taught you, and treated you like you were her own. And even though the shroud of white that gated your memories remained, you still knew somehow that this was the only love you had ever felt. After just a few days, you had called Toriel "Mother" instead, which she happily accepted. You were both hungry for family, and now you found one in each other.

"Why do you look like me in this drawing, my dear?" she asked innocently, her smile unfaltering though you could see concern gleaming in her crimson orbs. Your heart sunk at the idea of Mother disliking your piece, and you instantly grew defensive.

"Because we're family, Mother," you smiled sweetly, and explained as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "And family is supposed to look a like."

Mother seemed to flinch as though she was physically affected by your words. She gave you a tense, small smile, her grip around your small waist tightening.

"Oh my sweet child, that isn't always the case," she chuckled softly, propping you up to look at her properly, like she always did when she gave a lecture. You returned her gaze with a mixture of stubbornness and confusion. You may have been young at the time, but you were very observant. You often looked at yourself in the mirror and found a deep hatred burning a hole in your stomach. You wanted Mother’s kind, red eyes. And compared to her velvet pelt, you always felt bare and disgusted with your exposed skin. Whatever Mother found sweet about you, sadly you never saw in yourself.

"But Mother, all the families look alike here in the Ruins," you mumble, suddenly very interested in your light blue striped shirt. Your next sentence came out to nothing but a whisper. "And whenever we go shopping, everyone stares and whispers mean things about how I look..."

“That will never make any difference, my love," Mother soothed you, but her voice was firm as she brushed her claws softly through your hair. "People judge things based on what they can see. But love is what makes us family, and no one can see love now can they?"

You looked up at her briefly, still unconvinced. Seeing that stubborn face of yours made Mother smile widen, especially with your cheeks swollen in unaccepted defeat.

"Besides, you're so beautiful my child," she continued, caressing your cheek. "Why would you ever want to look like an old lady like me?"

You giggle in response and rub your face deeper into her palm. Despite her talk, you still can't help but wonder what it would be like if you weren't human. Down in the Underground, humans were remembered as a species full of hatred and violence, having sent the monsters into their eternal prison. Ironically, you were a more fearful creature than your sharply clawed and toothed guardian. You could never find beauty in this vulnerable skin, this patchy hair, these nubby teeth. You longed for Mother’s soft pelt and gleaming smile that warmed the hearts of all monsters in the Ruins. If you looked like Mother, maybe things would be easier for the two of you. Maybe you would be liked more. Maybe you would like yourself more.

You looked down at your palms shining with fresh skin for what seemed like hours, trying your best to avoid Mother’s loving stare as you seethed in self-loathing. The scarred flesh brought up memories of that battle from not so long ago… Suddenly, your forehead knitted in tightly together concentration as you started to remember something Mother taught not so long ago.

"Mother... Remember when you told me humans can't use their magic?" you asked, grabbing her hand tightly. Her eyes widened and she nodded reluctantly, like she knew exactly where this conversation was heading.

"Then how was I able to use it against Flowey?"

Inhaling deeply, she removed her glasses before turning to lock eyes with you, gently wrapping her beautiful, white hands around your scarred palms.

"You and I both know what magic can do to you… I don't know how you were able to use it, but it was circumstantial and I don't want to put you in a position where you have to use it ever again. Do you understand?"

You nodded reluctantly, but the words don't register. You allowed them to easily bounce off your now solid idea, and instead let your mind wonder off to even more possibilities. Noticing Mother’s worried expression, however, broke you from this train of thought. Giving her a reassuring smile, you planted a soft kiss on her nose to soothe her back in her default, relaxed position.

"Promise me you won't ever try to use magic?"

"I promise, Mother."

"And promise me you'll draw yourself the way you are from now on?"

"I promise, Mother."

She smiled warmly and triumphantly, convinced she had made genuine progress with this lecture. Mother gently thanked you for your beautiful drawing before giving you an affectionate nuzzle. You returned the gesture, and smiled wholeheartedly before rushing into Mother's room, where you remembered last spotting a book on magic... 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smol skelly is coming soon I swear.
> 
> By the way, sorry for publishing such short chapters! I didn't feel like the last chapter went with this one, so I split them up. Longer chapters are on the way though, I assure you! Thank you so much for reading, your comments and kudos are greatly appreciated and encouraged!


	3. Snow

Rough, hard edges pressed uncomfortably against your forehead, every poke and nudge filling you with excitement as it reminded you of its presence. It had been a few weeks since you last spoke to Mother about magic, a time frame you figured was long enough for her to forget the conversation. She had planted a soft kiss on your forehead before retreating to her own room, the dusty book under your pillow going unnoticed. Repressing your giggles from the easy success, you silenced your breath and began to count. _One snail, two snails, three snails..._ Up until you reached forty snails, which was your counting limit at the time. Eventually, Mother’s soft, melodic snores echoed through the halls long enough to reassure you she was officially asleep. You mustered up your courage, and grabbed the hefty, dark brown, artisan crafted book labeled in delicately etched letters, Magic for Dummies: Learning to Control Your Magical Abilities. Grinning at the book, you heaved it into your arms and scrambled for your house slippers, soft and warm against the cold stone floors.

Conscious of each step and sound, you gentled placed one foot in front of the other until you reached your doorframe and listened to Mother’s soft snores. As soon as her rumbles met your ears, you slowly began to inch towards the stairs to the basement, the one place in the house Mother restricted you from. Even though you had been practicing your reading for a few months now, you still needed to sound the words aloud, and Mother’s sensitive ears would most certainly hear your voice from down the hall. The only option now was to go downstairs. You knew Mother wouldn't be able to hear you there, and hopefully she’d never find you out.

The woeful moans of the old floorboards were amplified in the night air as you carefully made your way down, trying to be light on your feet while maintaining the extra weight of the book. Finally, you jumped off the last step, your heart racing from the secrecy of it all. This was the furthest you had ever gotten in the basement, as Mother had always dragged you away before you got too far. Now that you had gotten too far, you were enchanted by the sheer length of the vacant hallway. Magic was the last thing on your mind as you ventured deeper, your breath now floating from your lips in small clouds. Each step echoed and bounced against the walls, and your heartbeat was drumming against the book pressed protectively against your chest. Once you felt far enough from the stairway, you shakily hummed a small melody to soothe your nerves, your fingers gradually growing numb as your grip on the book tightened. Eventually, after shuffling through the halls, you reached a door.

Shivering now, you began to inspect the door closely. It was huge, that was sure, but it was also incredibly old and worn, the intricate designs now worn from time. You leaned down towards the bottom of the door, investigating the shining white light that lined the bottom. You curiously poked the material, which elicits an immediate retreat as the cold shocked your skin. Was this... Snow? You reached out again, this time with more confidence. The sharp sting of ice made you ache as a strangely familiar feeling washed over you, even though you couldn't remember where you even heard of snow, much less encountered it.

You placed the book a safe distance away from the wet snow before cupping your freezing hand to gather as much of the material as you could. Once an ample amount was collected, you delicately and skillfully formed a small ball.

 _Throwing snowballs isn’t very_...ice.

You blinked slowly as you stared at the snow, confused as to where the voice ringing through your head came from. It sounded so familiar, and it somehow reminded you of… Laughter. Snow reminded you of laughter. Sighing at your broken memories, you decided to abandon the little ball and sit down, resting your head against the door. You reached for the book, remembering why you even came down to the basement, and cracked it open to the first page.

"Ch...Chapter... One!" you declared, excitement bubbling in your chest, the strange nostalgia melting away along with the snowball. More importantly, you had only read small picture books with Mother. And now look! You were already to reading a six-thousand page book! Or was it six-hundred… Eh, you could only count to forty anyway. Your grin stretched wide enough to distract you from the numbing cold seeping through your slippers as you continued to read slowly, word for word.

"In... The ev... Eve-ant of an e... Mur? Emergency?" you squinted at the unfamiliar word, hoping you were reading it correctly. Each syllable seemed to form simply enough, but it had taken nearly ten minutes to complete the first three or four lines. Still, pride began to swell in your chest at the thought of finishing this book. No matter how long it would take.

You inhaled deeply, puffing out your chest, feeling it nearly spill over with determination before casting an angry glare at the book. Hah! Did it really think it could intimidate you?

"Well think again, because I will read you eventually-!"

A quiet knock interrupted your declaration of war. It was so soft against the stone door, it could have simply been the wind, but after a few frightened, shaky breaths, the knock came again. You gulped down the rising fear in your throat before pressing your cheek against the icy door.

"W-Who's there?" you called out, your bravery slowly dissipating in the deepest corners of your gut, far too afraid to help you. You began to listen to your muffled pulse against the stone wall when, suddenly, you heard a small voice on the other side.

"...orange," it squeaked, sounding high and forced, like they were just as scared as you were.

"Orange who?" you responded, pressing closer to the wall as you were reminded of Mother's similarly structured jokes. Your heart continued to race, now from anticipation rather than fear. The sound of crumpled snow, like someone shuffling their feet in thought, met your ears.

"o-orange you glad I didn't say banana?" it squeaked, before knocking once more.

"...Who's there?"

"banana... wait i-i mixed up the order of these."

Suddenly the breath you were holding shakily escaped, a smile replacing your pained scowl from the awful joke. It widened, until the fear that once lay thick in your throat becomes a loud, genuine laugh. Joy hit you in waves, urging you to laugh even more.

"why are you laughing? i-i messed that joke up!" the voice asked shakily, as though their embarrassment nearly brought them to tears. Honestly, you can't reply to that. It definitely wasn't a well executed joke, and this was coming from Toriel’s child. Perhaps the relief had brought the laughter, but that wasn't a good explanation either. As the last of your giggles finally faded away, you began to reply.

"I don't know, you're just funny," you considered, thinking of the words to describe how you were feeling. "Joke or no joke, I feel like you could make someone smile. N-Not that you’re a weirdo or something, you’re just… Funny."

Your poorly made compliment was met with silence, which somehow made your heart ache. Did they not hear you? Did they run off? It was a lonely thought, one with an intensity that frightened you. Only a few lines were exchanged, but it was plenty compared to the conversations you shared with the Moldsmals, who were far too busy jiggling. Still, hearing that voice made the same choking feeling of nostalgia revisit you, its mysterious presence getting more annoying by the second. Defeated, you prepared to turn back around and return to your reading, loneliness burning a hole through your chest.

"w-why don't i practice my jokes with you from now on then?"

You whipped back around in surprise, feeling a smile warm my cheeks once more. You eagerly nodded before solemnly remembering the door between you.

"Of course you can!" you giggled, your voice squeaking in excitement. Your new companion's nervous laughter leaked through the cracks of the door, its softness filling you with an indescribable joy.

"i'll be here then," the voice declared with a new confidence. "every night, with better jokes, i swear."

"I'll be here," you repeated, anticipation providing you warmth against the numbing, melted snow that soaked through your pajamas. "What's your name?"

The footsteps grew louder as your new friend stepped closer to the door, making you practically inches apart if not for the wall’s intimidating presence. You could practically hear their grin as they replied eagerly.

"sans. my name is sans."

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

"Happy birthday to you!"

Cheerful song from all the monsters of the Ruins filled the corridor as Mother came out with, your favorite, spider cake with a little "5" sitting proudly on top. The grin stretched across your cheeks was becoming painfully wide at this point, your face practically sore from all the happiness bubbling inside your small frame. It had been a little over a year since you first arrive to the Underground, the scars on your palms now merely light pink after that passage of time. Without your memories, it was impossible to tell when your exact birthday was, which you honestly didn’t care for. But for Mother, celebrating your birthday, regardless of when it was, was incredibly important. Glancing at her calendar one day, she had given you a wide, pleased smile, declaring that October 10th would be your birthday from now on.

Why? Because you’re 10/10, Mother said, promptly writing that down in her joke book, bolded for emphasis.

By now, memories were coming in small waves, gradually forming a cohesive enough image of your past. One that made living amongst monsters far greater than life on the surface. You knew they would come when your chest would flutter with nostalgia, and somehow the shroud of white with dissipate piece by piece. At these points, all you could do was run to Mother and cry in her arms. But you never told her about your memories, since you never felt the need to. And now, looking into the watering eyes of Mother and the gleaming smiles of the Froggits, Migosps, Moldsmals, Looxes, Vegetoids, and Whimsuns, this was the only home you had ever known.

"Make a wish, my child," Mother grinned, holding up her practically ancient camcorder to record the moment. You squeezed your eyes hard enough for sparks to appear behind your eyelids, thinking of the best wish. You smiled, the familiar feeling of a new memory being unveiled, another shroud of white fading away.

_This year, all I want is a family._

But this year, your wish was already right in front of you.

Hot tears burned your cheeks, but your smile stood resolute. Mother inches towards you, wanting desperately to hold you, but you spoke up before she had a chance.

"This year, I wish for snow."

 

Mother gently passed you the broom while she cleared away the dirtied dishes within the house, hurrying to tidy the house after the party. All your friends had long gone by now, your gifts still left unopened in the corner of the living room. Diligently, you began to scoop away the remnants of the party; confetti, crumbs, Moldsmals. …Wait. Giggling to yourself, you picked up the creature and brought them safely outside for them to seductively wiggle away.

"My child, why do you wish for snow?"

Mother's voice made you jump ever so slightly as you waved to the leaving Moldsmal. You turned, a gentle yet guarded smile on your face as you searched for the appropriate answer.

"I always wanted to play with snow, Mother," you replied softly, hope and fear aching in your gut. This could end in either being rewarded with your initial request, or being punished once she discovered your late night joke exchanges with Sans. You squeezed the broom in your hand until your knuckles turned white, praying to any celestial being who could grant you your wish. Mother’s eyelids lowered, her crimson orbs turning to crescent blood moons, the way they always did when she questioned your motives.

"All the storybooks for Christmas have snow, and it’s coming up soon," your words tumbled over one another as you tried to recite what you had already planned for back up. "I just thought we could share a Christmas with snow this year, Mother..."

Her face began to relax with each word, clearly convinced, and your stumbling heart began to slow in relief. Eventually, Mother sighed and gestured for a hug, which you rushed over to provide happily.

"Alright, I'll see what I can do," she murmured, giving you an affectionate nuzzle. You grinned into her soft fur, and whispered a soft thank you. After all this time, you were ready to see more than just the snow leaking under that door. You wanted to see the snow drift down and tangle themselves in your hair, to watch your breath dance along with the snowflakes. And, if you were being honest with yourself, you wanted to see Sans. Your grin widens at the thought, before you pulled back, and pointed towards the gifts a mischievous look.

"Can we open them now?" you plead, giving Mother the wide-eyed pout she never could say no to. She rolled her eyes, but her smile never left her face as she pushed me towards them in approval. Grabbing another piece of spider cake for herself, she sat on her rocking chair and watched as you unwrapped the first box, the one you knew came from Mother. It had a gorgeous ribbon that elegant secured the box, which you couldn’t bring yourself to part. Carefully unraveling it, you silently tied it around your thin wrists, having to loop it around two or three times. You marveled at how it shined as you tilted your hand, before finally turning to open the box.

"How did you know?" you gasped, admiring the content of the box. Inside, delicately tucked with tissue paper, was a beautifully engraved book entitled _Advanced Magic: A Guide to Honing Your Magical Abilities._ You reached for the book, your fingers gently grazing over each and every ridge, trying to memorize its shape through your touch. You turned to Mother, your mouth hanging agape and realization dawned upon you. 

“I have eyes and ears everywhere in this house," she chuckled lowly, rubbing my hair gently with her outstretched paw. Guilt pierced your heart from ever wanting to trick your loving Mother, but she placed a claw under your chin, urging you to look at her again. “Let me help you, my child… If this is really what you want, at least let me make sure you’re safe doing so.”

Her gentle, concerned smile quieted your simmering shame, and you turned to caress the book’s binding. At this point, the most you had ever been able to conjure was the glowing blue heart, which you found out was your soul. Even then, there was so much you couldn’t understand, arguably because of your fear… Being able to see and hold the embodiment of your existence, humming and gently warming your hands made you swell with pride. But the scars checkering your palms were a constant reminder of the dangers that came with such power, and you found yourself shaking too much to do anything with your magic.

“When can we start?” you whispered, still enchanted by the book, anxious to understand its contents. Mother laughed softly, the clinking of her fork against the plate quickening as she sped to finish her slice of cake.

“How does tomorrow night sound?” Mother asked, unable to hide her own mixture of anticipation and concern in her voice. Deep down, she wanted to be able to learn more about a human capable of utilizing their soul after all these years. But she was still a mother, and she had seen firsthand the power of a human soul when she was wrapping her child’s raw wounds for months. But looking at her child now, jumping and twirling excitedly around her, Mother’s worries were eased.

Already this human was different from the rest. You had chosen to stay with her, and even loved her as though you really were her own child. This past year had resurfaced dark and painful memories, but the new memories you created were enough to sooth any of her fears. She no longer feared losing you, like the others. She no longer feared you leaving, just like the others.

Toriel was determined to make you strong enough to survive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the late update! After this week updates will be coming in a steady stream. :) Thank you so much for your kudos and comments. <3  
> enter: the smol skelly


	4. Useless Explanations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans gets ready to meet his new sibling while the Reader practices their magical skills with Toriel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! There's really no excuse for how late this chapter is, but I'm so thankful for all of you reading. Your comments and kudos has turned this little fic I originally made for fun into so much more, and I promise to find myself a schedule that works best. As of now, I'll try to release the next update every Wednesdays or so. 
> 
> Thank you all so much. I can't want to share this adventure with you!

Sans stared down at the small letter in his hands, gently rubbing the paper in slow, delicate circles. The tips of his fingers traced the letters, his smile growing as he reread it for what seemed like the thousandth time. By his side was an impressive pile of letters, pages upon pages of scrawled out handwriting and drawings, spread like a mosaic against his sheets. He was reviewing the most recent letter of the group, rereading it over and over hungrily like he always did when he wasn’t in Snowdin. Feeling constantly warm was unsettling to say the least, and Sans often longed for the numbing cold. Arguably the scorching home his family shared near the Core contained its own fair share of happy memories, but it was so far away from you… 

_ Hey Sans _ , the letter read,  _ Sorry I coodint come tonite. Mother wantid me to sleep urly! I promis to come tomarow. U better hav gud jokes by then!!!!  _

Below the juvenile penmanship and spelling was a drawing of pie, with a scrawled out message “ur so _ slice _ .” Sans couldn’t hold in his snort, despite having reread this letter for the past month, the longest he had ever been away from Snowdin since he met you. Placing the letter down carefully with the others, Sans glanced over at the small box in the corner. It was poorly wrapped, despite his desperate attempt to make it appear presentable for your birthday which he had missed during his time away. Although, it wasn’t as though Sans could hand it to you through a door anyway… Childish agitation directed at his father grew, thick and nagging as he tidied up the letters back into a small wooden box under his bed. Sans wanted to be with you, his bones slowly sinking in the snow, the heavy silence broken only by your small voice on the other side of that door. Yet instead his senses were greeted by uncomfortable heat and the busy sounds of the city outside his window. 

“Sweetie?” a soft, tired voice interrupted his angry thoughts, and Sans turned quickly to greet it. At his door was a relatively short skeleton, like himself, with only dark bags under her eye sockets to prove she was far older than her seven-year-old son. Sans offered his tired mother a welcoming smile as she let herself in, wrapping her stain-filled lab coat around her tiny frame. 

“how are you feeling today, ma?” Sans asked gently, all his anger forgotten as she settled herself beside him. She smelled, unsurprisingly, like warm milk and ketchup, a strange concoction she found far more appetizing than the black coffee Sans’ father drank just as frequently.

“Eh, the exhaustion comes and goes,” she sighed, resting a hand on Sans’ skull, rubbing calming circles as she spoke. When it came to monster children, the birds and the bees weren’t necessarily used for reproduction. In fact, most monster didn’t even have, for lack of better term,  _ tools _ . Even with the existence of such items, monster children were all formed the same way: with the transference of magic. When partners decided they were ready for children, that would simply mean draining and combining some of their magic to form a whole new being. 

The process of draining a monster’s magic was a varying experience for most monsters. For some, it meant a quick and seamless action. For others, mainly those who lacked magical powers, it was a long and difficult experience. One that, if all went wrong, could drain their magic in its entirety. Sans’ mother had gone through the latter when creating him. While most monsters stick to having only one child a majority of the time in fear of losing too magic, his mother had been so in love with raising Sans that she insisted she could do it again. And now they were by the Core, far from their Snowdin oasis, so the lab Sans’ mother worked in could monitor her health in the final days of his new sibling’s creation. 

“But as long as I got my little bones with me it’s not so bad,” his mother grinned widely, placing a quick kiss on his temple, and straightening in an attempt to appear energetic. Sans giggled in response, instantly feeling at ease with his mother by his side. He buried his face into her shoulder, inhaling the smell of ketchup as he tried to make shapes out of the stains in her coat. 

“i’m scared, ma,” Sans murmured, reaching for her sleeve and squeezing it tightly. His mother grabbed his cheek quickly, her browbone lowering in a stern glare. 

“What for, kid?” she huffed, though her gentle touch rivaled her strong tone. Sans met her stare, tears forming in his eyes. He knew what having this child meant for his already weakened mother, even if she refused to admit it. 

“w-well what if they don’t like me?” Sans shuffled uncomfortably at telling his ma a lie, tugging at his jacket. “what if they don’t like jokes? or snow? or k-ketchup?”

“Nah, buddy,” she chuckled, giving him a mocking eyeroll. “This is my kid, your sibling, we’re talking about! I mean, your dad is in the mix too, but c’mon. The most that can happen is he’ll be way too sweet and overly analytical like your ol’ man. But otherwise, my most  _ excellent _ personality is far too dominant compared to-.”

A gentle knock made his mother jump in surprise, a flash of red covering her cheeks as she turned to face an incredibly tall skeleton with a prim facade. His pure white lab coat was a complete juxtaposition beside her stains, spreading out like a ketchup and oil galaxy. He elegantly glided into the room, his lean legs covering the same amount of distance in one step that Sans could in five. His presence made the room hum with his powerful energy, one that both delighted and angered the young skeleton, who was reminded of his prior annoyance now that the source had shown up. It was his father who had insisted in leaving his mother’s beloved Snowdin for this child’s creation, mainly from concern for his wife’s well-being. His mother had agreed solemnly, out of the love for her colleague and husband. She had wanted to bring the child in a world that was at least remotely like the Surface, with trees and snow and friendly neighbors. Not a boiling, dark Core that only made the monster’s history all the more evident and depressing. 

“Were you just speaking poorly of me?” Sans’ father signed quickly, his waving hands large enough to create a small, pleasant breeze. His mother flustered, growing a deep crimson as she began to sputter and clumsily sign a small “no, my dear” in reply. Golden eyes shining from glee, his father practically leapt forward to tickle his wife, sending her in howls and roars of laughter. Sans instantly fled to be a safe distance away from his father, knowing fully well that he was be next, and that his funny bones were just as ticklish as his mother’s. 

“H-How would you even know?” she gasped in between guffaws, mouthing her words greatly for his father to understand since her hands were too occupied with pushing him away to gesture. A sly smile grew over the taller skeleton’s face, and he paused to sign in reply. 

“My love, you’re only ever fully concentrated when it comes to talking about how much better you are compared to me,” he released a throaty huff at the end of his reply for emphasis. Despite himself, Sans had to chuckle at his father’s overly dramatic response. Outside of the home, his parents were well known and highly respected scientists who worked hand in hand on experiments Sans couldn’t even begin to understand. Yet at home… These two were disgustingly in love and equally awful when it came to humor. 

But hey, that humor ran in the family? 

His father’s airy chuckles paused suddenly, as he turned to face his son with an apologetic smile. Sans returned the gesture with a tentative look, struggling now to stay mad at his father. He knew why they had to be back in the Core, and Sans understood his parent’s concern. Yet, that didn’t change the fact he wasn’t even given a chance to tell you goodbye.

“We’ll be home soon, Sans,” his father leaned down to gently flick at Sans’ forehead, making him realize he was biting back tears. “All  _ four _ of us.” 

“Dr. Gaster,” a small red monster by the door called out suddenly, making Sans quickly wipe away his growing tears yet again. 

“Which Dr. Gaster? W.D. or me?” his mother responded in a good-natured manner, turning her husband so he could see there was a newcomer in the room. The small monster sighed, as though he had heard the rhyme hundreds of times, which he sadly had, before readjusting himself. 

“The results just came in. We need you two to come down and take a look,” he said, also moving his lips precisely for Dr. W.D. Gaster to understand. The lean skeleton nodded to his wife, and gestured for her to go on ahead. She placed another kiss on Sans’ head before quickly leaving her two boys, scurrying towards the lab. Sans looked up expectantly at his father, instinctively grabbing the end of his coat, far too vertically impaired to reach W.D.’s sleeve.

His father turned and revealed a small frown, his golden eyes dimming slightly. He kneeled before his son once again, tightly grabbing Sans’ hands, which could still fit through the holes of his own. Sans silently wondered when his hands would outgrow those holes. 

“Sans…” his father whispered gently, his voice sounding distorted and strange. He only ever spoke aloud when he was angry or incredibly serious. This fact made it all the more frightening for Sans, who inhaled sharply. “You’re so strong…  Stay that way.” 

Sans shakily nodded without really understanding, watching his father’s eyes regain its natural glow before lifting his hands and giving him a small smile. Once Sans was left alone in his room, he reached for the box of letters and held it tightly against his chest, the fear in W.D.’s voice bouncing around in his skull. 

Despite sticky warm air flowing into his room, Sans’ found himself shivering.

 

♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

 

“So… A sneeze?”

“Yes, simply imagine that you  _ must _ sneeze at all costs.”

You stared at your mother questioningly, but returned to focusing on the sneezing sensation. Mother stood a safe distance away, smiling encouragingly. After a just a few minutes of practice, you were completely lost. For Mother, conjuring her magic was something she was accustomed to doing ever since she was a child. Yet, according to her, the sneezing technique was used with all monster children who had magical abilities, including herself when she was young.

“Just close your eyes and remember how it feels to sneeze,” she easily described again, nodding excitedly as you grumble at the awful explanation. But, full of patience, you obeyed and recalled the last time you had sneezed… Which was only a few minutes earlier when you had  _ actually _ sneezed instead of creating anything remotely magical. You furrowed your eyebrows together tightly, a habit of yours when it came to concentration, and wiggled your nose. The drafty air of the Ruins met your nostrils, and for a moment all you could think of was how the dead tree in your front yard was strangely beginning to smell like cocoa powder. 

“Oh my goodness,” Mother exhaled, her paws reaching her snout in a midway gasp. Your eyes fluttered open in confusion, your concentration snapping as you searched your Mother’s eyes for answers. Doing so, however, made you incredibly conscious of the growing warmth in your palms and the bright cyan glow within your sight. A little yelp escaped your lips instinctively, the burns stretching across your palms beginning to sting from unwanted memories. The cry made Mother leap instantaneously, her eyes growing intense with worry, but you raised a hand to stop her. 

“I-I’m fine, Mother,” you stammered, trying to maintain the flow of energy in your body. The effort was beginning to make your fingers tingle, a sensation similar to pins and needles. Just as quickly as it had appeared, the blue glow ceased, leaving you feeling uneasy without the warmth it had provided. Your small knees wobbled from your uncomfortable, defensive position, forcing you to shakily stand up and give Mother an apologetic glance. Her jaw was trembling from either anger or fear, the flames in her paws only just beginning to flicker away. She seemed prepared to fight her own child’s magic to protect you, as unrealistic as it was. 

“That was… unexpected to say the least,” she chuckled nervously, shaking the remainder of the fire from her paws. Sighing deeply, she gave you a reassuring smile. “No worries, my child. I just didn’t think you could muster up such powerful magic so quickly… I had assumed what happened to that flower when you fell was simply circumstantial.” 

You had expected Mother to begin lecturing you, but when you looked up at her face, she was beaming from pride.

“Try again, my dear.” Excitement began to surge in your chest as you realized that this was only the start of your magical ventures, and you ached to try and replicate the action. Once you started to concentration again, however, you froze, and ran to mother in a panic. 

“How did I use magic, Mother?” you squeaked, realizing suddenly that you hadn’t used the sneezing method whatsoever when your magic appeared.

“Well many, many years ago, humans were the most powerful mages in the world,” Mother nodded happily, misunderstanding your question and using it as a chance to give a history lesson. You began to mumble a correction when Mother grabbed you suddenly and placed you on her lap for the unavoidable lecture. “You see, human souls are incredibly strong forces that are the equivalent of nearly ten monster souls if they are properly trained. Left untouched, however, human souls are very delicate.” 

You allow Mother’s familiar lecture to ease into a sort of background ambiance, and let your mind stray to your previous experience with magic. Gently, you touch your sternum and raise an eyebrow confusedly, feeling as though you were forgetting something. Before this present practice, Mother had completely gone against her “let’s start training tomorrow night!” declaration and forced you to study nearly ten chapters of your  _ Advanced Magic: A Guide to Honing Your Magical Abilities _ book. Doing so, thankfully, taught you plenty of things about monster magic (which Mother insisted on repeating over and over again in her lectures, such as the one she was currently and intensely in the middle of). But you would always listen patiently, not having the heart to tell her you had heard these lectures before.

Wait. Not having the heart-.  

“Oh, now I remember! Mother, how come my heart thing didn’t show up this time?” Mother stopped her lecture with pursed lips, and looks down at you. Seeing that the question was out of genuine curiosity instead of hopes to escape said lecture, however, she smiled softly. 

“Human souls are delicate because your body is simply a vessel, so it's easy to hurt your ‘heart thing,’” she hummed, silently noting that she had to give you another haircut as she brushed the strands away from your eyes. “So when someone wants to, let’s say, really get to know you, they can use their own soul to call yours out. You can’t do it on your own. Monster souls, however, can’t do so. Our bodies  _ are  _ our souls.” 

“You can’t bring your heart out then?” you asked quietly, the information completely new, since it was apparently considered common sense among monsters and therefore wasn’t mentioned in your book. 

“Precisely, our bodies are the manifestation of our souls,” Mother narrowed her eyes slightly as she continued. “Though a ‘heart’ can be summoned by strong magic… Or if the monster has been critically injured. If that’s the case, the monster’s body reverts to a heart to protect themselves from the pain.” 

Mother’s crimson eyes darkened, clouded over by her memories. You reached out to touch her hand gently, sensing her distress, and immediately summoned her back to reality. She smiled sadly, realizing she had told her poor five-year-old something far too mature, and planted a kiss on your forehead. 

“Do not fear my child,” she whispered. “Let’s try this again… I know you will become the strongest human the Underground has ever seen!” 

Sighing a breath of relief, you squeezed Mother’s hand before returning to your spot by the tree. You stumbled slightly over the fallen leaves, and turned to face Mother. Even though your magic came easily last time, you couldn’t help but swallow down the anxiety rising in your throat. You still had no idea how you conjured it in the first place, and doing so was still an uncomfortable experience. The scars on your palm were growing an angry pink from the magical agitation, making your worry grow just as painful. 

_ Don’t be such a coward. You were supposed to be strong, but really you’re just disappointing.  _

A flash of white crossed your vision, revealing a small voice in the back of your head. Another memory. The white began to blare in your line of sight, as rage and embarrassment heated your cheeks and ears. You  _ were _ strong. You always were. The anger sparking in your chest grew warmer and warmer until, finally, the cyan glow returned with full force. You could barely make out Mother from all the light blocking your eyesight. A deep ringing then began to reach your ears, gradually growing louder with each passing second. 

_ You’re such a joke… _

A loud, sudden pop made the mind-numbing noise seize. Your senses were soon restored, only to be greet with a biting chill to your toes, and a world full of white-covered trees. You stared in awe, becoming enthralled by the clouds summoned by your breath and the flakes drifting to kiss your cheeks. This was… 

“Snow…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe, headcanon dump. Do not fear, disgusting puns will be on its way shortly. 
> 
> ...But first comes the burn. ╭( ･ㅂ･)و ̑̑ 
> 
> In case you haven't caught on, the Reader is in fact the cyan soul. If you have any questions regarding my reasoning behind the Reader's personality or magical abilities let me know! I'd be happy to answer them (without spoiling of course ᕕ(ᐛ)ᕗ).


	5. New Smells, New Sights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAY THARE.  
> GEE WHIZ I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE THINKING.  
> SEVEN, YOU'RE JUST A FILTHY LIAR AND I CAN'T RELY ON YOU EVER. 
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> well you're right so-. 
> 
>  
> 
> I-In other news, have this gorgeous piece of fanart from [Psychotic-Muffin](http://sevenhumantraits.tumblr.com/post/138125880526/illegal-crossing-i-tried-to-draw-my-favorite). Thank you guys so much for your loving comments! Please send me more of your stuff, they make me so happy. ♥
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy this smol chapter. In return, I will be posting very soon  pls believe me .

  
  


“It’s snow!” you squeaked in excitement, rushing to stumble and bounce around in the crisp, white blanket. You howled in happiness, practically leaping and bounding in distances you could have only hoped to achieve with such short legs. You seemed to dance around for what seemed like ages, filled with endless energy, up until you become quite proficient at catching snowflakes on your tongue. Eventually, the intense cold hit you all at once, as well as the reality of your situation. 

As soon as your childish glee began to fade, confusion and fear came to settle in its place. This wasn’t the Ruins at all. There, every room, every hall always had an end that was in sight. Nothing was vast and incredible, besides a considerably large merchant area and the room you had first fallen in. Otherwise, the strange land you were in now was practically hundreds of times larger than home (once again, this was being said with a five-year-old’s general knowledge of what “hundreds” was). 

Here, the ceiling loomed far enough to resemble a sky, with dark clouds lazily drifting with no destination. Snowflakes waltzed from these clouds, latching themselves to you where they were destined to melt away. Frantically, you searched all around for anything that would resemble the Ruins, trying not to be distracted by the beautiful landscape. You felt heavy from cold, and you knew you’d have to find somewhere warm eventually, otherwise your toes would fall off. 

You looked down and wiggled said toes in the snow to reassure yourself that they were in fact still there, but started when you were met with wide, ochre brown paw-like feet instead. With a loud yelp, you jumped at the realization that you were covered in the strange pelt from head to toe- er, paw. And, incidentally, completely naked. Your hands were now, too, paws resembling that of Mother’s, and when you reached up to your face you could feel unfamiliar, loose ears hanging gently against your cheeks. Despite the situation, you couldn’t help but grin widely from amazement. Not only did you get to see snow, you were suddenly a monster like Mother. Two wishes granted in one day! 

Yet there was nowhere in your book that mentioned shape-shifting magical abilities. Apparently that was taboo, where being able to take any form created too many trust issues among monsters. At least that’s what Mother explained when you attempted to pursue such an option to, well, look like you did now. You were practically a replica of your Mother, nubby horns, claws, fangs and all. You were much smaller, of course, and were of a light brown coloration rather than her pure white. That could only mean… 

Your soul had been separated from your body. 

And ended up in the middle of nowhere. 

Fear made the once delicate steam made by your breath into shaky and persistent fog clouding your view, the dancing snow becoming stinging needles of ice. You were shivering violently at the cold, and the beautiful clouds were now growing dark and angry. Whimpering, you began to shuffle among the dense trees, desperate for a path or any sign of monsters. Yet, no matter where you turned, all you could see were the trees. 

“Mother! Mother, where are you?” you cried, false hope tearing at your vocal chords as you called out, over and over again. No matter how many times you screamed, your echo and the gradually building gusts of wind were your only reply. A storm seemed to be gathering, the clouds curling uncomfortably being overweight with snow.

_ She’s not coming, she’ll just find another child to look after. _

Defeated, you found a fallen pine, its branches draping over a small ditch. The floor below the curtain of needles was a surprising splash of brown and green against the blanket of snow. Hesitantly crouching to your knees, you crawled into the tight space with a last call for Mother, one that became lost in the roar of the wind and the now deafening swirl of snow and sleet. Releasing a sigh of appreciation for your significantly warmer make-shift den, you closed your eyes, and the sound of Mother’s lullaby rumbling deeply in her chest eased you into sleep.

♥  ♥  ♥  ♥  ♥  ♥

“I-I didn’t know what to do, Grillby… I was out to gather s-some wood and there they were, nearly frozen to death,” a voice sputtered hurriedly, muffled by the snow in your ears. Warm hands placed your body down with a shaky exhale, and red lights swam behind your eyelids from the pain in your limbs. You tried to grunt or move, but your body was immobile from sleeping in the snow.

Defeated, you inhaled softly, breathing in the warm, brown air. You could tell it was brown by the ease in which the air flowed into your bloodstream and the sharp taste of cedar on your tongue. It was earthy, and  _ almost _ like home. Except the constant scent of baked goods was replaced by grease and strong alcohol. Your muscles continued to be tense and unfeeling, despite the incredibly soft cushion you rested upon. 

“Just head home, I’ll give the Gasters a call,” another voice responded quietly, hissing and crackling in nature. “I just need to focus on warming the poor thing up…” On cue, your side began to blare with a conciliatory warmth, ebbing comfortably like your living room fire. You released a small guttural sound in response, desperate to express your appreciation. The same crackling voice seemed to chuckle softly, and a relieved sigh could be heard a little further away. You attempted to lean into the warmth, but everything you did felt like it was being done for the first time. Your first breaths, your first movements, the first time you opened your eyes. 

Finally after much effort, your eyelids complied to your commands, allowing you to glance up at your saviors. Your view was met with the rich color of wood, as expected, and an orange flame. The glow appeared to be wearing classy clothing and a pair of glasses, quietly humming soft words to you as it placed a warm hand on your cheek. You purred at the touch, feeling your face (literally) melt. Beside the flame-man, who you assume to be Grillby, was a timid young monster of the rabbit variety in a plain tank-top, dirt painting her purple cheeks and worry swimming in her eyes. Noticing your stare, she shuffled uncomfortably and adjusted her hat. 

“Go on, kid,” Grillby repeated to the rabbit, turning to give her a reassuring smile. “You did good. Now let me take care of the rest.” She nodded, and gave you one last concerned glance before rushing away. Sighing tensely, you shuddered as your muscles regained their senses and the severity of your frostbite greeted them. Your jaw hung agape in a silent sob from the pain, which Grillby notices immediately. He hushed you soothingly, withdrawing a hand to bring a phone to his cheek. You briefly wondered where his ear was. Or his eyes. Anything that would distract you from the torment screaming from your muscles.

“Hey, remember when you said to let you know when something strange happened in Snowdin?” Grillby whispered quietly, directing his warmth on your hands now. 

“Well, I think you’ll need to come and see this.” 

 

Sans woke up abruptly to the sound of his father rushing past his bedroom door, his mother following in close pursuit. Pushing his head lethargically away from the pillow, he slid out of the safety of his blankets and let his feet touch the cool ground below. He groaned, shuffling towards the door and adjusted his sight to see in the darkness. His parents were nowhere in sight, but Sans could hear his mother muttering urgently. With a bright yellow flash, one pair of footsteps was silenced, and his mother’s grumbled loudly. Suddenly her tiny frame was in view, trudging in Sans’ direction towards her bedroom. On cue, Sans retreated behind his door and watched her stumble along for a change of clothes. 

“Sans, I know you’re awake, kiddo,” she chuckled warmly, knocking on the door he hid behind with a wide smile. He squeaked in response, but peeked his head in defeat. “C’mon bud, head to the lab with me?” 

Sans grinned widely and excitedly jumped out, clutching to his mother’s sleeve as she led the way through the dark. The core was still bustling with life in the middle of the night, late market noise and blaring lights guiding Sans and his monther’s path to elevator. Going into his parents’ lab was always a treat for Sans. He was enchanted by all the machines and all the people he got to meet. Even at this ungodly hour, the lab was a beautiful symphony of whirring fans and constant typing. Familiar faces greeted Sans and his mother, and he felt himself straighten in growing pride. 

“D-Dr. Gaster, y-your husband is w-waiting in the infirmary,” a tentative young monster stammered, straightening her frames upon her lizard-like snout. 

“Ah, right on time,” Sans’ mother muttered, pulling Sans towards the end of the hallway. “He  _ knows _ I hate it when he uses shortcuts.” 

“b-bye alphys,” Sans murmured, allowing his mother to drag him to the infirmary. The young monster acknowledged him with a friendly smile. 

“I mean, your father  _ knows _ how competitive I am!” his mother continued her passionate rant.

Sans giggled quietly, knowing his mother simply wasn’t fit to be awake at this late hour, and watched her grumble on up until they reached the doors of the infirmary. Abruptly, she stopped, and Sans ran into her leg with a silent groan. He peered over his mother’s coat in frustration, trying to find the source of her hesitation, and inhaled sharply. 

By the closest bed to the door was his father laying a delicate ball of brown fur, wet and shivering under a thick blanket. A handful of other scientists, which now included Sans’ mother, rushed in with more blankets, warm food and drink, or just concerned reassurance to the newcomer. His father turned to look at Sans, a worried expression darkening his features. Quickly, he signed to his son to stay put, before quickly striding away to gather first aid materials. This, thankfully, gave Sans the chance for finally see the strange monster’s face, now turned in his direction. He drank it all in, enamored by the striking similarity they shared to the king himself. It was uncanny, from the tips of their horns to their snout. Sans could have even mistaken them for a younger version of King Asgore at first glance if not for their ochre brown fur and bright cerulean eyes, lined by ink-black sclera. They were completely abnormal, even in the monster demographic, but Sans couldn’t bring himself to look away.

The bustling noise of the lab seemed to seize the very moment those eyes meet his. His breath stopped in his throat, and it took every ounce of his energy not to disobey his father’s command to stay put. Sans was stuck between two desires; one was to run far away, back to the safety of his bed where no such monsters existed, and the other was to run straight to the source, and do all he could to make them feel comfortable and safe. Because in those eyes, Sans saw himself. Fear, anxiety, frustration. 

“M-Mother…” they croaked shakily, tears welling in their eyes from both physical and emotional pain. Sans gave in immediately, rushing to their side and grabbing a paw from under the sheets. It was stingingly cold, almost like their gaze, but Sans couldn’t bring himself to care anymore. He couldn’t afford to care. From the corner of his eye he could see his mother open her mouth to begin to scold him for interfering with their treatment, but his father suddenly appeared behind her and placed a quiet hand on her shoulder to withdraw her from doing so. Seeing this, Sans returned his entire attention towards the creature, now so much more vulnerable and sickly up close. All his fear towards them was forgotten in an instant, replaced by fierce concern as the monster continued to tremble violently. They cried for their mother softly, all energy leaving them with each breath. 

“it’s alright, my mom and dad will help you find them,” Sans whispered softly, surprised by his own confidence talking to the stranger. Yet, somehow, Sans felt as though the monster’s soul was familiar, its humming magic powerful and impossible to have forgotten. Without even thinking, he says, “it’s  _ ice _ to meet you.”


	6. Bed You Didn't See This Comin'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL LOOKIE HERE I POSTED A CHAPTER EARLY. WOWZA. 
> 
> BONUS: I slaved away to make you guys [this](http://sevenhumantraits.tumblr.com/post/138460613551/just-thought-id-make-a-cover-for-my-ao3-fic-and). ~~You better click that link, this took me hours just please click it please~~ I hope you like it... _( >「ε:)_
> 
> Thanks so much for all the support everyone, I love hearing from all of you so much! Can't wait to see what you think of this chapter hueh (¬‿¬)
> 
> Beware of bed puns, dear reader.

You woke up to a gentle hand rubbing your head maternally. For a moment, you were sure it was Mother there beside you, purring sweet murmurs like she always did when you had a nightmare. Experimentally, you attempted to open and close your fingers beneath a heavy layer of sheets, delighted by the warmth. Miraculously all your limbs were obedient and moved easily despite the severe frostbite you had suffered from hours earlier. Even your throat, which had been torn and sore from screaming out for Mother, had seemed to have been soothed. Magic, you assumed, must have played a part. It took immense concentration to keep yourself awake against the calming rotations being rubbed into your temple, but you eventually managed to release a frustrated puff and the circles ceased. 

“Dear, I think they’re awake,” a soft voice whispered, causing a heavy source of warmth that had been blanketed over your legs to disappear. Simultaneously, you heard the voice of a child eagerly mutter a reply, and more shuffling ensued. You finally managed to open your eyes, but regretted it as soon as the light touched them. The room itself was dark and calming, but two sparks of intense light were blinding you, causing you to immediately retract back into the safety of the sheets. 

“w-wait it’s ok,” the voice stuttered, worry spiking it a few octaves. The remnants of light still swam behind your eyelids, and you groaned in response. “i mean- it’s _ice_ to meet you.”

The light behind your eyes stopped suddenly, as the words resonated a memory. This pun, as poorly timed and insensitive as it was hilarious, was used once before. 

“Y… You’ve said th-that one… Already,” you croaked, your voice foreign and strained. A soft chuckle rumbled a little further from earshot, while the small voice besides you huffed with newfound confidence. 

“i know, i know. you _cot_ me.”

You open your mouth to give a sharp reply, but paused, and decided to peek out of the sheets for the sole purpose of squinting at the accuser. Although the gleaming lights still blocked a proper view of your new companion, you assumed the glare was giving the proper effect. Until he says:

“yeah you really _cot_ me... _bed-handed_.”

It’s over. With just one awful pun you’ve fallen for his trap, and you erupted into a flurry of giggles. Your embarrassing joy momentarily made the light’s ferocity die down and revealed the sources: two brilliantly glowing hearts. Souls that were beautiful and pure and therefore painfully radiant. Your laughter died down quickly with this realization. How were you able to see them? At last, your eyes adjusted enough to see a small skeleton in a puffy yellow and blue striped sweater and a fading grin plastered against his face. 

“b-but i guess it really doesn’t _mattress_ ,” he continued shakily, sensing your discomfort and anxious to get that laugh out of you again. You fulfilled his wishes unintentionally, your body trembling painfully from suppressing your laughter. 

“Don’t you have anything non-bed related?” you laughed, your voice coming out comfortably this time, though it was still slightly raw. 

“well sure, i have plenty of other furniture related puns if you’d _chair_ to listen,” he shrugged, and a soft laugh escaped another skeleton monster at the foot of your bed. You were equally impressed by the by awful pun as you were by the sweet sounding chuckle, causing you to hurriedly shift your body in order to get a better look at the older monster. Doing so, however, immediately resulted in landing face-down onto the pillow, which wasn’t as comfortable with a snout than it was with your usual human nose. Groaning in pain, you turned your head and exhaled heavily from frustration. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, you’re just in the process of healing,” the female skeleton smiled worriedly, sliding an arm under your neck and another under your waist in order to flip you onto your back once more. “You need a few more minutes to get your body moving again. The magic is still _working it’s magic_

She immediately grinned at her own pun, nudging her boy with a “you get it” look gleaming in her eye sockets. You released an airy, pity laugh and the younger monster sighed, though you could see the workings of another pun in the way his smirk broadened. 

“ _desk_ right,” he purred easily, mockingly nudging her back. This, combined with the pout on his mother’s face, made a snicker easily slip out. The boy puffed proudly, obviously glad with himself for every laugh that came out of you. “you really need to _nightrest_.”

“Ok that’s too far,” you snorted, stopping his antics with that last straw. His mother agreed with an exaggerated nod, before realizing she was the adult in the room and scurried away to “grab stuff.” 

You calmly followed her with your eyes before catching the younger monster with an affixed and enchanted stare directed at you. You returned the gaze carefully, both offended and delighted that your new form was so easy to gawk at. He chuckled nervously, his cheeks flushing a golden hue from being caught.

“i’m sans, by the way,” he chirped, a little overly enthusiastic to try and hide his embarrassment. You inhaled sharply at the name, your heart shuddering in sudden and violent remembrance. Nights of staying up late by a cold door, and here you were. Meeting Sans the skeleton. You pushed up quickly, all thoughts of painful or disobedient muscles forgotten as you forced your legs over the side of the bed. Sans appeared to try and push you back, intensely concerned, but as elated as you were to see him face to face, it also filled you with dread. Being able to see him meant you were on the wrong side of the door. 

“I need to go back to Mother,” you rasped, trying to quiet the burning excitement in your chest from seeing your best friend with some cold-hearted reality. You weren’t even attached to your body, which meant Mother was left in the Ruins with her soul-less five-year-old. At the same time, you were experiencing the strangest magical encounters, including, but not limited to, being able to see the soul burning brightly in front of you. Mentioning leaving, however, made it dim softly, and made your own heart ache in response. As much as you wanted to stay and share jokes for hours on end, you knew Mother needed you more. “I-I’m sorry…”

“no don’t be, it’s alright,” he smiled warmly, though you could still see the small white heart in his ribcage flicker painfully. “just… at least tell me your name?”

Honestly, you could have just told him. Perhaps then Sans would have been able to be happy knowing that, although brief, he really did get to meet his best friend in person. But, unfortunately, you couldn’t help but be selfish. This wasn’t the way you imagined meeting Sans would be, and as much as you loved this form, it was a lie. Sans deserved everything, including the truth. 

_But you still lied to me._

You shuddered at the sudden memory, disturbed by just how familiar the voice was now, yet it was still just out of reach. Looking down at your misplaced body, you were met with a warm, butterscotch brown. Just like Mother’s pie, you noted. Ah… You grinned at Sans, satisfied with your choice.

“Scotch.”

Sans instantly smiled and repeated it quietly to himself, feeling more relaxed now that he knew who you were. You return the expression, genuine joy filling you from his smile, despite knowing it was because of a lie. For a year you had waited for this, to actually get to see him when he laughed. If only you knew that Sans had been waiting for the same thing; he just didn’t know it was right before him. 

“Sans, honey, Dad needs you to go to bed now,” his mother said softly, re-entering the infirmary with a mug and small pastry. The young skeleton frowned instantly, and you felt yourself missing his grin as soon as it disappeared. You silently made a promise to come back to this side of the door, as yourself next time, and see that smile again.

“see you later then, scotch… i hope you find your mom,” Sans murmured, giving you one final glance before turning to his mother, pouting, then pointedly stomping away. She chuckled softly as a result, and took Sans’ chair in front of you before handing you the cup. It was pleasantly cool compared to the warmth of the room, and smelled like the salt of the ocean. Nervously, you readjusted yourself on the bed and took a tentative sip of the briny drink, anxious to leave and return to Mother. 

“Scotch, was it?” she asked. You observed her quietly as you nodded. Now that you were alone, you began to notice how dim her soul was compared to Sans’, and how her eyes gave away her exhaustion now that her son wasn’t in the room. She smiled, and you couldn’t help but see the resemblance. 

“You can call me Dr. Gaster, Scotch… Look, I’m going to need you to be completely honest with me,” she began, her phalanges reaching out to grab your claws. She meets your eyes steadily, all playfulness gone from her gaze. “Especially if you want to go back to your mother.” 

Mentioning Mother made your heart shudder in pain, the mere image of her all alone hurting you. You nodded quietly, determined to do whatever it took to get back in the Ruins. As soon as Dr. Gaster began to speak, a taller skeletal figure with golden eyes entered the room, smoothly gliding to your bedside with a warm smile. As soon as you noticed him, his soul completely threw you off guard. It was brighter than Sans’ and his mother’s combined, burning with a proud and confident manner that reflected his exterior. You squinted once more as he approached, allowing your eyes to become accustomed to the new light. He placed a quiet hand on Dr. Gaster’s shoulder then reached for your hand, which you hesitantly accepted. 

“Hello, my name is Dr. Gaster. But since you’ve already met my wife, please call me W.D.,” he cooed, his voice strange and distorted yet poised as he offered you his hand. You can’t quite tell why, but his presence disturbed you in a deep, unreasonable way. Although he clearly shared features with Sans, he lacked the same charisma and overt innocence that his son (you’re assuming) had. Even his wife showed as much exhaustion as the much taller skeleton, but she carried herself with a permanently compassionate smile on her face. W.D. might have seemed kind and confident, but there was something, something you couldn’t quite tell yet, that threw you off. You brushed it off quickly by accepting the handshake, startled by his cold phalanges in contrast to the heated room. 

“So how old are you sweetie?” Dr. Gaster hummed, clearly a little more at ease with her husband in the room. You soothed your initial thoughts of W.D. with the fact that such a kind woman was married to this man. 

“‘m five,” you reply easily, unable to hide your pride. You had only been five for so long, so you still relished the glory of being able to call yourself so, asserting your position of old age. Oh how the years were flying by. Dr. Gaster sensed this and inwardly chuckled.

“Where are you from, Scotch?” W.D. asked, his lack of eye contact making you uneasy, his eyes fixed on your lips as you spoke. 

“The Ruins, with Mother,” you responded, surprised by the reaction to your answer. Dr. Gaster had stood up suddenly, turning to W.D. and giving him a flurry of excited hand signals. You silently reminded yourself to add that to your list of studies as the taller skeleton responded quickly, the mixture of dread and anticipation in his eyes making your stomach churn. 

“Uhm… Scotch, how did you get here?” Dr. Gaster began shakily, turning back to you. 

“Well, I was practicing magic with Mother,” you considered. That moment seemed to have happened so long ago. “And I was supposed to just ignite it, but… I guess I was too focused on bringing out my h-heart thing? Er, and then I ended up somewhere cold-.” 

“Heart thing?” W.D. interjected, both he and his wife enraptured by your tale. 

“Can you see any of those heart things right now, Scotch?” Dr. Gaster added. Shyly, you nodded.

“Oh my god, we found one…” she whispered softly, reaching for W.D.’s hand. He squeezed it gently in return, but his eyes never left you. Uncomfortable, you shifted in your seat. 

“D-Does this mean you’ll help me get home…?” you mumbled, playing with the sleeve of your loaned sweater. You mentally noted that it looked like the one Sans was wearing before. Dr. Gaster opened her mouth with a smile, looking as though she was prepared to say yes, but was stopped by W.D.’s hand once more. He quickly signed to her and her face grew increasingly distressed as W.D. continued. You noted a universal sign for rocking a child and, after a long pause, a gentle rotation over his chest, where his heart was. Eventually, she angrily signed a reply, and the taller skeleton relented, giving his wife a final apologetic look before walking away. 

“Scotch, I really want to help you get home,” Dr. Gaster said quietly. “See, my husband and I have been studying…something for practically our whole lives, but it’s been nothing but theories and old data supporting our ideas. Essentially, we’ve been running off of fairy tales more than hard facts or anything remotely observational-.”

You gave her a puzzled look, which caused her to flush a slight red tint and stutter over her words. 

“S-Sweetheart basically W.D. and I have been reading books about a certain something that we never got to really see in person. Kinda like a make believe story you want to be true, right?”

“Yeah,” you hummed, instantly relating. You can’t help but think studying fairy tales would be cooler though. “Is it real then? Your story?”

Dr. Gaster paused, grabbing your hand tightly once more. 

“Scotch, baby… _You’re_ the fairy tale we’ve been looking for.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a [reference sheet](https://americanglassrepair.files.wordpress.com/2013/09/3m-scotch-magic-tapes-products.jpg) for Scotch if anyone's interested.


	7. Cue Mission Impossible Music

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heheh, h-hi everyone ;-;
> 
> I'm so sorry, this is sooooo late. These last few weeks have been absolutely horrible, where even when I had the time to write it never felt good enough and I just started over. Thank you guys so much for your comments though, you have no idea how much I love them <3 (Honestly, I spend most of my days showing my friends and squealing about how much I love all of you). 
> 
> Thanks for your patience guys... In return, when you comment, include what you'd want me to do as a little extra! I could a) actually make that Scotch reference sheet hueh, b) add an extra chapter dedicated to the fluffs, c) make more art, or e) whatever you guys think would be best! Just no skelly dicks. Read the tags you monsters. 
> 
> C'mon man. No skelly dicks. ~~Not until they're older.~~

“... _ Me? _ ” you whispered, breathless. Were you their fairytale because… You were human? The blood drained from your cheeks, fear making you tremble like a whimsun. Mother never truly explained why it was dangerous to leave the Ruins, but you had read enough history books to at least guess. After all that reading, even  _ you _ grew to despise humans. But really, how was a species that banished an entire population below the surface a  _ fairytale _ ? You frantically looked back down at your paws, trying to reassure yourself that you were still in monster form. Greeted by the butterscotch fur made your heartbeat slow slightly, but the fear still had not left. If you still had this appearance, how did Dr. Gaster know? 

“I-I just want to get back to my Mother,” you find yourself stammering, your throat beginning to tighten in the beginnings of a sob. “I-I… I need to-.” Violent waves of homesickness hit you suddenly, making it impossible to continue. You just wanted to be by the fire with Mother, listening to her read as she stroked your hair. Watch her stop to pull at your growing bangs, then mumble something about giving you a haircut. You wanted her cooking, and your own bed. You wanted  _ home _ . 

“Shh, baby it’s ok, I know,” Dr. Gaster whispered, her softness startling you. “We don’t want to hurt you, Scotch… We just need your help in order to get you home.” 

You looked up, tears still hanging heavily from your lashes. The tears plastered to your fur was becoming uncomfortable and bothersome, causing you to reach up and rub them away from your cheeks. Dr. Gaster had extended her arm to brush them away, but stopped once she saw you flinch away from her touch. She gave you an apologetic smile before retreating her hand, and resorted to holding your paw instead. 

“Look at my soul, Scotch,” she instructed. You wiped away a few more tears before doing as told, concentrating on the heart glowing within Dr. Gaster’s chest. It was the same as W.D.’s and Sans’, white and small. But you could tell that this was distinctly her own, dimly glowing but purer than anything you had ever seen. It was beautiful. “Now look at yours.” 

Focusing quietly, your summoned your soul and stared at it in awe. This was the first time you were able to clearly survey the source of that unrelenting blue glow you had seen since the first day you fell to the underground. It was like a glass heart that had been filled with sunshine and water, the combination strikingly bright and unique. You turned back to Dr. Gaster’s soul, your jaw hanging as you realized why she had made you observe both hearts: your soul was the only one that had color. 

“Determination,” she chuckled, noticing your confusion. “Human souls have determination that give it color. That’s why your soul can survive without your body. That’s why we’ve been looking for a soul like yours for years, Scotch.” 

You gulped, unsure what Dr. Gaster meant. W.D. had looked just as excited as she looked now, but he had clearly said something to upset her. Now that you knew why you were “special,” you honestly didn’t want to find out what could ever make a sweet woman like Dr. Gaster troubled.

“Why?” you found yourself asking, disturbed by how small your voice sounded now in such a large room. The skeleton chewed on her cheek for a few moments, the pinpricks of light behind her eye sockets disappearing as she delved deep into thought. She considered your question with a long silence  that nearly made you cry again until she gave your paw another reassuring squeeze.

“Baby, when a monster expires, their soul will disappear along with it, no matter how strong they are,” she began. “When a human expires, however, their soul remains because of that determination. We don’t necessarily understand how, but we do know that’s why humans are such a powerful species.  _ You _ , however, are the first instance I’ve seen of a human child using magic to this extent, especially after the war… Do you follow so far?”

You nodded, most of Dr. Gaster’s explanation sounding familiar, even if you couldn’t understand some of the words. You bit back the urge to ask for further explanation though, as you sensed that she simply wanted to continue. 

“There’s been six humans who have fallen so far, Scotch… We- no- my boss needs seven human souls to get the barrier to break. But I’ve been studying this determination project for years and… I think there’s a different way we could break it. I just need you to help me prove it, and then we can get you back home.” 

The words slowly begin to marinate, and you honestly felt hopeful for a few fleeting seconds. You could be the future of monsters and humans.  _ You _ were special enough to complete this task. Yet the feeling left as soon as it had came; all this promise meant that you would be away from Mother far longer than you intended. 

“W-Well I’m not that great with magic, Dr. Gaster,” you muttered lamely. “I can’t help you… I just want to get home, and let Mother know I’m ok. A-After that I can come back?”  

Dr. Gaster sighed, but the smile on her face never left. She seemed defeated but somewhat glad you chose to give her that response. Nodding quietly, she simply handed you the pastry, softly rubbed your head, then turned to leave.

“Get some sleep for now, Scotch,” Dr. Gaster murmured. “I’ll get you home in the morning…” 

A deep, small part of you really wanted to stay and trust Dr. Gaster. And, in a sense, you chose to listen to that part of you. She was kind and warm, and her soul most certainly reflected that. But despite your patience, you knew it was irrational to remain on the other side of the door when Mother was back home alone. If you chose to obediently stay here, you would be fully responsible for Mother’s despair. And you just couldn’t have that. You tentatively picked up the small pastry, delighted when you realized it was a spider donut. You wolfed down the delightful snack in a few ravenous bites, then chased it down with the remaining salty drink. The magic of the food flowed through you, quickly making your muscles spark with energy and anticipation. 

One year of getting through to the basement while Mother was asleep made you quite the sneak, you thought, and you quietly made your way to the door of the infirmary. Outside of the dark room were buzzing lights and noises that, luckily, drowned the sound of your footsteps. Even so, you were still an excellent sneak. You deserved a theme song or something. Maybe a sidekick. 

The vastness of the world outside the infirmary, however, silenced your thoughts. You had never encountered something like this before in the ruins. It was loud and bright and new. Everything was gleaming and showed no sign of age, which, from growing up among crumbling walls and cracked floors, threw you off immensely. Groaning inwardly, you glanced in both directions, both encouraged and frightened by the lack of people in the halls. With a deep breath, you decided that taking a left at this crossroads of corridors was the best answer. You quickly scuffled in your direction of choice cautiously, warily observing the whirling fans and large mirrors along the way. 

You jumped suddenly, startled by a figure that looked like Mother by your side. You paused, and observed this figure pedantically, hungrily noting each detail as you realized that the figure was, in fact,  _ you _ . This was your first time seeing yourself in the mirror since you gained your new form. And it was… Everything you had wanted. It was Toriel. Well, with the light brown fur version of Toriel. Or the completely different eye-color version. Oh boy, were the eyes different alright. They were pitch black, making your bright cyan irises much more prominent against the dark canvas. They were bright, nearly impossible to look away from. They, ironically, were what made you human. 

“hey, what are you doing out?” You turned to the familiar voice, understanding now why his eyes immediately searched for yours. Awkwardly, you realized the nature of your situation. 

“I need to go home, Sans…” you mumbled, playing with the edge of your sleeves. “Promise me you won’t tell your mom?” He shuffled nervously, staring at his slippers. You could tell he was close to his mother, and began to sulk. So much for being an expert sneak. Now you were bound to get caught by Dr. Gaster, you’d never get to see Mother, and your magic would be used for...whatever W.D. was so excited about. 

“nah, don’t worry,” Sans said suddenly, breaking you away from your fears. “i want to get you home, scotch.” He grinned, approaching you suddenly, a hand extended. You searched his eyes for a few, fleeting moments, nearly convinced that he secretly knew who you were. Shaking the thought away, you graciously accepted his hand, soothed by the warmth and comfort it provided. 

“Can help me get back tonight…?” you mumbled, tightening your grip on his hand, as though it was an anchor. Sans wasn’t much taller than yourself, but you did have to arch your head up slightly to meet his gaze. He seemed lost for a few seconds, his breath coming short mainly from the sight of your blue eyes. You couldn’t really blame him. 

“let’s go one step at a time,” Sans said gently, beginning to gently pull you down the hall, his phalanges rubbing soothing circles over your knuckles. “i’ll get you out of this lab first.” 

You silently agreed to the notion, although you felt your shoulders sink in defeat. It was unreasonable to get to the Ruins in one night. Then again, you had never been on this side of the door before. For all you knew you were close. And if Sans was here… 

The young skeleton had briefly turned to look at you as he confidently strode down the corridors, completely unnoticed by the few scientists in the lab as he seemed to watch you delve deep into thought. 

“don’t worry, scotch,” Sans squeezed your hand once more. “i’ll get you home soon. just… where  _ do _ you live?”

“A-Ah well,” you choked over your words, unsure how to properly tell him without revealing your identity. You sighed inwardly, frustrated by your fairly weak lie (Scotch was still a cool name though, not gonna lie). “....The Ruins.”

He paused, his eyes never leaving yours as he pulled you towards the corner of the new room, the metal doors of an elevator looming over you. You gulped, your mouth suddenly feeling incredibly dry as he searched your face further. 

_ You lied to me.  _

“the ruins… then that means-.”

“S-Sans!” a young voice called out, tentative yet attempting to sound authoritative (a combination that didn’t work out well). You instinctively rushed to hide behind your companion, fear thrumming against your sweater loudly. You heard Sans silence the new figure with a hiss before turning to give you a comforting pat. Behind Sans now was a young monster, covered with beautiful, bright yellow scales. She was partially hidden by her own claws, nervously covering her mouth with her eyes gleaming guiltily behind her glasses. 

“alphys, this is scotch,” Sans said softly, glancing at you sadly. Your head hung from the shame as you realized he might have seen through your lie. “i need your help, i need to get them to snowdin.” 

“Snowdin? W-Why would you need to get there?” Alphys murmured, speaking extra softly, overly conscious now that she realized she had been too loud. You continued to stare at your bare feet, claws gently scraping the metal floors as your guilt warmed your cheeks. 

“they live there,” Sans lied easily, causing you to lift your head. He didn’t look at you. Alphys nodded in understanding, giving you a small look of kindness. Her soul was just as bright as Dr. Gaster’s. 

“Well, I-I can’t get o-out of the lab anytime soon,” she stammered, scouring the pockets of her lab coat for something. With a delighted huff, she retrieved a few gold coins and offered them to you with a timid smile. “U-Use these to catch a ride from the River Man. He u-usually doesn’t charge, but it’s always nice to give him a little something.” 

You nodded quietly, not entirely understanding, but took the coins graciously regardless. Sans’ grin widened. 

“i’ll be back! don’t tell mom and dad, alphys,” he chirped, grabbing your hand once more and leaving the young monster with a wave before she could respond. Dragged by Sans into the elevator, you turned to give Alphys a wave as well, which she returned, confusion swimming in her eyes. 

If the lab was huge compared to the Ruins, the world outside it was practically a universe, the kinds you read about in books. Differently lights and signs were the stars and distant planets and the Core, illuminating in the distance, was like the Sun. It was breathtakingly beautiful, being surrounded by all the new sights and smells. The heat, even, was intoxicating, although uncomfortable. There’s was nothing like this at home, save for a few pretty lamps scattered here and there. Your heart panged as Sans lead you to the river, away from the lights of the city. 

You turned to look at him in concern, watching him let go of your hand and pace around with great urgency. He paused, and leaned down to pick up a little note before grumbling painfully. 

“What’s wrong?” you murmured, reaching out to comfort him. 

“the river man’s not coming,” Sans groaned, scratching the back of his skull as he began to reflect his options. Worry ate away his options one by one, becoming evident by the way his face scrunched together. You shifted your weight from foot to foot, becoming increasingly anxious. 

“i’m sorry, scotch… we have no choice but to stay at my house until he gets here.”

♥  ♥  ♥  ♥  ♥  ♥

Sans’ bed was incredibly comfortable, either out of your increasingly persuasive exhaustion or the fact that skeletons probably needed soft mattresses for their bones. Either one really. You released a heavy sigh of content, rolling in the cool comforter like a little pastry in the oven-like heat of, as you recently learned, the Hotlands. Sans had avoided speaking to you along the way, giving you small comments periodically only to give you directions. Even then, he refused to look at you, even now, though you could see him struggling not to chuckle at your blanket-wrapping ways. 

“just stay quiet. i’m not sure if my parents might come back,” he whispered shakily, still trying to hide the laughter in his voice. You grumbled in reply, feeling your eyelids grow heavy as you turned to your side. You could care less about getting caught now. Sleep sounded a lot better than running away at the moment. Burying your face deeper into the comforter, however, caused a something to crinkle under your weight. You paused, and scrambled to search for the source when Sans suddenly leaped to grab it, his face covered in a golden hue. 

“t-that’s mine, let me just get that o-out of your way!” he choked out, reaching for a box and hurriedly stuffing the paper inside. You found your cheeks warm from thought that the paper  _ could  _ have been one of your cheesy little notes and retreated back to the comforter, your heart pounding against the mattress. 

“I’m going to… sleep now, I guess,” you mumbled, making yourself more comfortable, if that was even possible at this point, and letting your eyelids fall. Sans simply grunted in reply, still recovering, and settled on the end of the bed. The combination of the comforter and the warmth of Sans’ soul allowed you to easily drawn into sleep. 

 

Sans stared at your sleeping figure, anger and happiness mixing and bubbling in his chest. He knew you lied. There was no mistake that this little ball of fur was the one behind that door, laughing at his cheesy jokes as they studied themselves to sleep. He may have never seen you before, and your voice did sound different, but there was no doubt. The moment he saw you, the moment he heard your laugh, he knew. 

So why did you lie to him? 

Sans sighed deeply, watching the comforter gently rise and fall as you drifted to sleep. There was no way he could hide you from ma and dad now, but at least you would be well rested. You were young, and there were still things you didn’t know. Maybe there was no other reason behind your lie than simply wanting to be different. There was no excuse but… as long as you were safe. Whatever his parents needed you for, it wouldn’t be that bad. But keeping you away from your mother any longer than needed  _ was _ . 

Sans groaned, scratching the back of his head. There were so many more questions than answers now. “How did you get here?” was the main one. Also, “How do I get you back?” Or, “Is this what you really look like?” Maybe even “since when was my best friend a boss monster?” among others. He rocked forward from exhaustion before snapping upward with newly discovered determination. Sans looked at you, his hands forming clenched fists before he leaned against the bed beside you. 

He was determined to get you home. 

And he remained determined hours later as his father burst through the door, dark and undisguised fear in his eyes. 

  
  



End file.
